


fixit

by whetherwoman



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Episode Tag, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, emotional healing by cock, episode tag: 1x16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-10
Updated: 2011-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-15 13:38:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whetherwoman/pseuds/whetherwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tag for 1x16, E Malama. Steve comforts Danny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fixit

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, so, this is total id fic for me. I just wanted Danny to get some hugs! And sexings. Un-beta'd.

Steve’s awesome, awesome day is only made better, like most things in Steve’s life these days, by Danny’s reaction when told all about it. ("Wait, you were—what? On the phone, but you, a tree—no, seriously, what?! Also please tell me you did not throw out your back because I am not giving you a massage, bad behavior does not get rewarded, I will train you like a puppy if I have to.") It was a seriously good day, though—Steve got to use his emergency facepaint, track trained assassins through the jungle, rig up a trap that was not only fucking bad-ass but worked exactly the way it was supposed to, save a guy’s life by stabbing him with a piece of bamboo, help put the bad guy in prison, and as a cherry on the sundae Kono kicked some serious ass. Coming around that corner to see the fourth assassin lying on the floor in a pile of debris—Steve had practically burst with pride.

Steve falls asleep curled up at Danny’s side that night, still a little warm and damp from his very, very long shower, tired and satisfied down to the bone. But he wakes up barely a an hour or two later, moon shining directly on his face. He mumbles sleepily at first, turns his head further into Danny's neck. But the pulse under his nose is too fast, Danny's chest rising and falling under his arm too shallowly. He pulls back to see Danny's face. Danny's staring up at the ceiling. He looks like he hasn't moved an inch since he lay down.

"Danny?" Steve whispers. He clears his throat, blinking away sleep. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Danny says quietly. "I mean, no, but yeah."

He's still staring up at the ceiling, though, and Steve's not reassured. "Pick one," he says.

"Short term no, long term yes, okay?" Danny turns to meet Steve's eyes, finally, the moonlight sending the shadows around his eyes and cheekbones into sharp relief. "Long term, my baby girl is with two people who love her, who do their best for her, even if they sometimes need to have it pointed out just what their best is—point being, eventually they do it. They try. She's safe, her dad is not in lockup for assaulting a civilian, long term everything is just... fine. Just fine. Super."

"Short term?" Steve says quietly. He starts moving his hand up and down Danny's side, just stroking a little. It's to try and calm Danny, yeah, but mostly it's for Steve—he needs to feel that Danny's real next to him, feel his skin and warmth under Steve's palm, because Danny's head is somewhere else entirely.

Danny closes his eyes and turns his head away, but he doesn't pull away from Steve's hand. "Short term... fuck." He breathes in, sudden and ragged. "Gimme a—just keep doing that, yeah? Just for a minute." Steve nods against Danny's shoulder and keeps his hand moving, up and down, hip to collarbone and down again. "Fuck," Danny whispers again. "Fuck, Steve, what am I doing? I have to fight for every—they put my daughter in this situation, there were _guns_ near my daughter and they don’t—they don’t even think that I’d—Rachel _thanked_ me, she said _thanks_ like I'd—like I was—I don't—Steve—" Danny's gasping now, harsh, his hand gripping Steve's, holding on like Steve is a tether or a counterweight. Steve hangs on to him, shoves his other arm under Danny's shoulders so he can surround him, wrap him up in both arms while Danny shakes, fighting for breath through the dry sobs that rip through him.

"Fuck them," Steve whispers fiercely in his ear. He doesn't even know if Danny can hear him, if Danny can hear anything right now, but he has to say it. "Fuck them, Danny, they don't know you, they don't get you, they can't have you, Danny, I've got you." His heart is aching, a physical pain in his chest. He'd give anything to take this off of Danny, lift the burden that's flattening him into Steve's clean sheets.

Then Danny starts wriggling, pushing his arms away, and Steve pulls back, heart in his throat. Had he crossed a line, somehow? Said too much, or held Danny too tightly when he just wanted some space?

But Danny turns in his arms until he’s facing Steve, and he’s not pulling away—his mouth is on Steve’s, then on his jaw, his throat, hot and desperate.

“C’mon,” Danny mutters in between biting kisses, his hands sliding down until it’s clear what he wants. “Steve, c’mon, want you, do it, your cock, put it, please—“

And god, that word in Danny’s rough, needy voice, that is not and never will be something Steve can refuse. But even as he’s fumbling in his side table for the lube, he has to ask, “Are you—fuck, Danny—you sure?” He can’t say no to Danny, not tonight, not when Danny’s like this, but this isn’t—Danny’s not okay, whatever he says.

Danny flings a leg over Steve’s hips and pushes him on to his back. He leans forward until their foreheads touch—and everything slows down. Steve can’t tell whose heartbeat is thundering through him, Danny’s breath gusting over his lips in time with his own, Danny’s eyes clear and sure two inches from his own.

“Please,” Danny whispers. “I want to—want you inside me now, want to know exactly—exactly who I’m with. That you’ve got me.”

Fuck if Steve can argue with that. Danny reaches down and opens the lube, spills it on Steve’s fingers, and he reaches a shaking hand around Danny to strum over Danny’s asshole with wet fingers. Danny clenches, then relaxes, and Steve has one finger in, two, and Danny whispers, “Fuck,” and squirms away, sits up, and takes Steve inside him in one deep push.

Steve grips Danny’s hips hard enough to bruise, looks up at him in the moonlight, Danny's head thrown back and his hair glinting silver. And maybe some moisture glints at the corners of Danny’s eyes when he comes, maybe his moan is half a sob, but then he looks down at Steve and smiles, oh god, small and uncomplicated and full of pure fucking love the way only Danny can smile, and Steve chokes out "Danny—" and comes.

Danny collapses forward on to Steve, heedless of the mess between them. He’s heavy on Steve’s chest, but Steve just wraps his arms around him, savoring the slow pace of his breath. They lie there for a long minute, but finally Steve gently pushes Danny off. Danny falls to the side with a small sound of protest.

“Just gonna—” Steve says, reaching over the edge of the bed for a discarded t-shirt. “Before we’re glued together permanently.”

“Mm,” says Danny. “Wouldn’t mind.”

Steve pauses halfway through mopping up the mess on his stomach and blinks at Danny. But Danny’s eyes are closed, clearly halfway to sleep. “That your idea of a proposal, Danny?” Steve says softly, just in case Danny’s still awake. But Danny’s only response is a small hum as he wriggles a little further down under the sheets.

Steve curls up at Danny’s side, nose tucked into his neck again. Danny’s pulse is steady and reassuring, and Steve lets it lull him back to sleep. His last hazy thought is that yeah, Danny’s not short-term okay. Steve has no illusions that Danny will wake up in the morning and be all kittens and rainbows. But long term?

Yeah, Steve thinks as he yawns into Danny’s shoulder. Long term he’ll be fine.


End file.
